Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook home slice, like a fish.
All I wish is that you taste like a Swedish dish.
the L-A-R-S, H-O double-R I-S...
and I CV, and yes I must confess:
I'm back 2003 and the snare pumps.
up, Kris Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
rocking it Ritchie Valens,
and I'm up to this session,
yes I'm up to this challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and I'll
all the layers of apathy
up the zone.
Because analyze your world,
I'll your head.
I'll readjust your paradigm with microphone.
I was chilling in my '88 on 101,
with the in the back bumping P.E. number one.
in a genre I didn't create,
props to Melle Mel, D, and all eight
hundred thousand MC's on whose I stand.
I'm just a white kid a plastic jammie in his hand!
See this MC spends his life feeling fine,
but doesn't get off in a straight line.
Fine, time will tell where headed.
It's up to chance, like path is breaded.
Your I'm above it! Your BS? Let's rubber glove it!
Take your heroin and shove it... life got to love it.
So get this, this, deal this, peel this away,
I made song out of my brain neurons and clay.
It helped my brain chill for a and a day,
until one day it stopped like the city of Pompeii.
But it's okay, hey, because I it home.
Knick knack whack, my sonic range his grown.
Profound like De Saint Exuperey,
when I the chorus of this song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Part Swedish, Australian, full fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I 1430 on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll rock the CoHo 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop English and and biology.

I piss Catholics off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it '27th Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he try to rock the mike like me?
And I'm like Al, don't attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's Mike?
Josh plays bass and I take vows,
to my hip-hop that I'm busting now.
And I satisfy like GER's,
I the destruction of SUV cars.
I think Israel and should get along.
I Nine Inch Nails for this song.
And I'm so post-modern, I even exist.
Did you that P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
It's the century, MC's please,
you're killing hip-hop when you the Bee Gees!
MC's today rap about five things:
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
Delusions of in full swing,
fascist focus and diamond rings.
But if Martin Luther were alive today,
how would he the decay displayed?
Homogenized identities, betrayed,
there's more to rap than getting paid.
And there's more to than MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and when I sit in silence, my love for increases.
It feels great to the plug on the family TV,
and make my own in society.
And while I freak this beat, you're doing word,
trying to get your voice heard.
If I didn't ProTools, I'd be like you
and I could do spoken word if I wanted to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You might see me on the bumping Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
my BA I'll get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly like John "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Rewriting Bronte Wide Sargasso Sea.